


The Whole Truth

by fhsa_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-11
Updated: 2005-03-11
Packaged: 2019-02-05 15:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12797250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: the truth shall set you free...okay, I suck at summaries. It's too short for one anyway. Inspired by hearing "Hero" one too many times on the radio





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

....... 

"Am I in too deep? 

Have I lost my mind? 

I don't care, you're here 

tonight." 

........ 

Walter Skinner stared at the figure lying so still. Too still. He was used to Krycek being at rest, had seen the man remain silently in place for long periods of time, knew it for the soldier's skill it was. But this, this was different. 

 

Those long lashes didn't so much as flutter, the eyes behind them not even hinting at a dream state. The lips remained equi-distant and dry, but his tongue might as well have been glued in place. Yes, the chest moved and yes, the heart beat, but that was the only movement Skinner had been able to detect for two days now. 

 

I really should take him to a hospital, Skinner thought again, and again, left him where he was instead. 

 

Two days before.... 

 

The door to his apartment had been locked and intact. The security system was operating normally and on. The doorman had no notice of either visitors or stops on his floor. That was what had made it so shocking when, on his way to put down his briefcase, Walter had tripped over Alex's body in the near dark of his livingroom. 

 

A curse, an instinctive pull of the gun, and then a hurried rush for the lights, all had ilicited no response from the man lying crumpled by his chair. Skinner had gotten no visible sign of life, and thought Alex might be dead, a body for him to dispose of or explain, another set-up, with a twist. 

 

Ignoring the presumed body, Skinner had searched his apartment warily, but there was no one there and not a thing out of place. Returning to the livingroom, he wasn't sure he was relieved when a closer look showed that Alex wasn't a corpse, at least, not yet. 

 

The man had been hurt, there was no doubt about that, but there was nothing that would account for his comatose condition. Bruises, rope burns and shallow cuts covered him, as well as a thick layer of grime, but there were no wounds to the head that he could find, not even a bump. 

 

Walter's initial exam concluded, he was then left with the question of what to do next. The questions of what had happened, why, and the likely meaning behind Alex's presence in his home this way, would all have to wait until he figured out step two. 

 

Deciding at last to play it where it lay, Walter half-carried and half-dragged the unconscious man to the guest rooms. He started to simply dump him onto the bed, but Alex reeked of smoke, urine and chemicals, and with another short series of curses, Walter changed course for the bathroom. 

 

Propping Alex on the vanity stool, he started a tub filling and then began to strip the limp form. There was nothing salvageable, at least, not by his standards, and he chucked it all in a pile outside the door, ready to be bagged and incenerated later. The bruises were worse on Alex's body, and Skinner was only mildly surprised to see welts on the man's back. Whoever had whipped him had either been unskilled or uncaring, they seemed to have been laid on completely at random, both in pattern and force. 

 

Skinner shut off the water and took a deep breath before lifting Alex like a child and settling him in the steaming water. He'd noticed the skin felt cold, and he hoped the warmth would help revive Alex, if only so he could provide some answers before Skinner kicked him back out into the cold. 

 

He hadn't filled the tub, and it was short enough that despite Alex's lax muscles, there was no way he'd sink under completely. Thus assured the man would only soak, not drown, Skinner left him and turned to pick up the clothes. As he reached for the jacket, he felt a bulge in one of the pockets. It was wrapped in brown paper secured with rubber bands, and it felt like a videotape. 

 

Walter set it aside, knowing he'd need time for whatever it was, and wanting to solve the more immediate problems of Alex first. Checking the rest of the pockets revealed nothing, and he hurriedly dumped everything into a garbage bag and set it beside the door. He wouldn't use the complex dump, would take it somewhere else to dispose of it. 

 

That accomplished, he turned down the covers on the guest bed, found an old pair of pyjamas he'd never actually worn, and returned to the bathroom. 

 

Alex hadn't so much as rippled the water since he'd left, and now Skinner took a cloth and soaped it well. He had no reason to be gentle, but he washed the face with care, noticing that as the dirt was removed, so was most of the color. Alex was pale, his dark lashes almost looking like slashes against the thin cheeks. 

 

When he'd lifted Alex to put him in the tub, Skinner had noticed that the man was lighter than he expected, and now under the bruises, Skinner could see the prominence of bones. He wasn't emaciated, just a few pounds shy of a healthy weight, but there had always been a lushness to Krycek's body that Skinner wasn't seeing now. 

 

He also still wasn't seeing anything to explain why Alex wasn't waking up. Picking up the shampoo, he let his lather-covered fingers trail slowly along the scalp, feeling for any lumps or cuts he might have missed earlier. He still felt nothing, and it was only as he was rinsing the filthy hair for a third time that he found it. 

 

At the base of Alex's neck, just in the hairline, was a needlemark. It had been a big needle, and the puncture mark looked raw, despite the lack of any swelling. 

 

Drugged. Someone had worked him over, drugged him, and dumped him in Skinner's living room. It wasn't much to go on, but it was a start. Thinking that maybe the tape would have some answers, Walter started to lift Alex again, then paused. 

 

Taking a clean, white washcloth, Walter hesitated only briefly, then eased it into the cleft of Alex's buttocks. There was no blood, and Walter thought it doubtful Alex had been raped. That was one less thing to worry about, did he suddenly have to explain Alex's presence and current condition. 

 

He drained the water, dried Alex as best he could, then carried him, still nude, to the bed. It was easier to dress him that way, and soon, Alex Krycek was tucked in like a child. Figuring there wasn't much more he could do for the moment, Skinner went across the hall, and into his own bedroom. 

 

He took the time for a quick shower, changed into sweatpants and a tee-shirt, and retrieved the package. Leaving his door open so that he could watch the bed, Skinner stripped off the rubber bands, and opened the paper. 

 

It was a videotape, and there was a note as well. The typing showed that it could have come from any computer and printer, and was useless as evidence. Not that these people were that clumsy or stupid. The note was short and to the point, but Walter read it through twice before putting in the tape. 

 

"Watch the tape. Think about it. Decide for yourself. If he doesn't die from the overdose, he'll be telling you the truth when he wakes up." 

 

Skinner wondered just what the hell that was supposed to mean, as he popped in the tape and settled himself on the bed. A glance showed Alex hadn't moved, and he turned his attention to the screen. 

 

It was a lousy picture, but he could make out that the man being wrestled into the room was Alex. The hands were tied, but Alex was fighting like a tiger. An older man Skinner didn't recognize snapped, and the muscle released Alex, dropping him on the floor. He got back to his feet quickly, snarling behind the gag in his mouth, but even with the bad feed and the smallness of the images, Skinner could see that Alex was frightened. The gag was a removed, and the older man spoke. 

 

"Ready to die, Alex?" 

 

What followed shocked Skinner to his core. He listened as the man outlined all of Alex's alleged crimes, Skinner had expected as much. He hadn't expected to be the source of most of them. 

 

"I killed him!" Alex yelled in furious desperation. 

 

"Yes, and you brought him back! That wasn't the plan, Alex, wasn't the deal. And just where is that little palm pilot now? At the bottom of the Potomac! We know you threw it off the bridge, don't even bother to deny it. That was the only one and you destroyed it! It was worth a hundred of you!" 

 

“You should have almost that many of me by now, I say we're even." 

Skinner saw that Alex, having decided he was going to die and that there was no way out, was now standing straight and calm, spitting the words out with pure hatred and malice. 

 

"You're right, we should have had that many, but it seems there was an anonymous tip to Agent Mulder. Again, leaving us with nothing. Again." 

 

And so it went, the old man raging, while Alex grew steadily calmer and more vindictive in his words. 

 

"You went too far this time, Alex. You've blown it for the last time. But before we kill you, we're going to have a little talk. And we're going to see whose side you're really on, once and for all." At this, the man withdrew a vial and a large syringe. 

 

It was black and white footage, but Skinner swore he saw Alex pale. Suddenly, all the bravado of the past few minutes, all the apathy fled, replaced by pure terror. The hired muscle had taken hold of him again, and his struggles damn near took all three of them down. 

 

"No! No! Kill me! Kill me, you bastard! No! Not that, anything but that!" 

 

It was useless, and Skinner watched as they held him down, saw the man inject him, heard the scream as Alex was drugged. 

 

He continued to fight, but in moments, was slumping. The old man gestured to a chair, and they tied Alex into it. The old man waited a few more minutes, then spoke. 

 

"What is your name?" 

 

"I don't know. They told me it was Alex Krycek. I think it's Alexei, I don't know." The words were slow and dragged a bit, but it was plain this was the truth. A truth serum? But why...Skinner pushed that thought aside, listening instead as Alex confessed to helping Mulder and Skinner anyway he could, told of betraying Smoking Man, of being not just a double, but a triple-agent. 

 

"Who do you work for, Alex?" 

 

"Skinner." 

 

"Why?" 

 

"Because I love him." 

 

After that, Alex could have confessed to shooting JFK and Skinner wouldn't have noticed. One part of his brain noticed that the questioning was apparently over, and that the men were now beating the hell out of Krycek, but only half-heartedly. Maybe his final statement had shocked them, too. For whatever reason, they weren't hitting as hard as they could have. They didn't even appear to be having fun. The old man had pulled out a crop, but his flurry of blows seemed frustration more than revenge. 

 

I guess finding out your multi-generation, top-secret, inter-galactic conspiracy just went down the tubes because of true love would be damn annoying. 

 

As soon as Skinner realized what he'd just thought, he snapped back into awareness, focusing on finishing the tape. The beating over, one of the henchmen must have asked what to do with the body. 

 

"Just dump it in an alleyway. I gave him enough to kill him, he'll be dead in few hours, humans can't take these alien drugs full strength." 

 

"What if he does, though? He knows everything." 

 

"He'd never be able to use it. A side-effect. Unlike our truth serums, this one is permanent." 

 

The tape ran on for several more minutes, long after Alex had been dragged out, then simply shut off. 

 

Skinner remained on the bed, frozen in place. His mind was so busy trying to process everything that it almost made an audible whine. Shaking himself, Skinner walked into the living room and poured himself a large, very stiff drink. 

 

He went out onto the balcony, the cool air helping him to clear his head. It didn't take long for him to fall back onto Marine logic. There was really only one thing to be decided, he concluded, and that was if the tape were real or not. 

 

If it was staged, then there would be a follow up of some kind, and he'd know he'd be approached eventually. If it wasn't....that was harder. If it wasn't, then everything had changed. 

 

He just wasn't sure it was for the better. 

 

Finishing his drink, Skinner headed back into house. He didn't want to, but he forced himself to look in on Alex. 

 

The man was lying exactly in the same position, the still form lightly breathing. A check showed his pulse was weak but steady. 

 

Skinner left, returned to his room, and got into bed. He turned out the lights, despite the fact that he knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep anytime soon. 

 

If Alex lived through the night, it would lend credence to the fact that the tape was a fake. There was also the fact that the beating hadn't been severe, although that piece of the puzzle didn't fit the way it should. In fact, that was one of the things leading him to believe it was real. A fake tape would have been more careful not to show a pulled punch or kick, would have gone to great pains to make it look real. 

 

Skinner sighed. He didn't need this. Didn't need any of it, he had enough problems without lying awake all night wondering if Alex loved him or not. 

 

A pang went through him as he realized that was the real question. Out of everything he'd seen and heard on the tape, that was the thing he couldn't let go of. He didn't want to let go of it. That disturbing thought wound its way through Skinner's night, ensuring that the little sleep he did get, wasn't peaceful. 

 

The next morning was a Saturday, and Skinner was grateful he didn't have to face leaving Alex or phoning in to work. Alex remained where Skinner had put him, seeming to have not even shifted in the night. A check showed that he hadn't, that he was positioned precisely the way that Skinner had left him hours ago. 

 

Skinner knew this couldn't be good for the man, remembered Scully saying something about pneumonia and people needing to be turned. He moved Alex onto his left side, moving each of the man's limbs several times before rolling him onto the side. He moistened Alex's lips with a cloth, smoothing some petroleum jelly on them to retain some moisture. 

 

And then, he grabbed a cup of coffee, praising the saints for automatic timers, pulled up a chair and simply sat and stared at Alex Krycek. 

 

Walter was honest enough to admit that his feelings for this man had always been conflicted. He'd wanted Alex, wanted him from the first moment those amazing green eyes had peered demurely up at him through a forest of lashes. The first sound of that honeyed-whiskeyed voice, the first time that full mouth had curved into a smile, revealing dangerous white teeth. 

 

Oh, yes, his body had voted early and often on how he felt about Krycek. His mind had been slower. Skinner had felt the betrayal sharply, had considered it almost a personal failure that Krycek turned out to be anything but a green young agent of tremendous promise. Still, Skinner knew personally how easy it was to find yourself on the wrong side, doing the wrong thing, and unable to get back across the road. 

 

He'd given Alex the benefit of the doubt. Right up until Alex had pressed the buttons and killed him. 

 

That had been more than Skinner could forgive, the taunting eyes, the cruel look as Alex wielded his power, watched nonchalantly as Skinner writhed and then died. 

But, a little voice in his head dared to whisper, what if he did it to save you? He brought you back, nobody else would have. Maybe he had to kill you, to keep you alive. And he could have done so much more damage with that thing, could have sent you spinning from life to death and back like a damn yo-yo. But he didn't. He only killed you once, used it to threaten twice. And, if the tape were real, Alex had then destroyed it, making you safe forever. 

 

Skinner's mind continued to spin circles around itself, while he, at long last, allowed his heart to speak. He stopped thinking and just felt, for a long time. He kept his eyes closed, but his ears were on alert for any change in Alex's breathing, or better yet, the sound of stirring. 

 

How did he feel about Alex Krycek? The truth? He'd hated the man for almost as long as he'd loved him. Almost, but not quite. The need to hurt him was there, the need for revenge, if only to justify his own years of accepting pain from Alex. But Skinner knew that need was caused not by the little betrayals, but by the big one. The one where Alex had seemed to prove he didn't care, literally, if Skinner lived or died. If that assumption was wrong, then maybe the rest of it was, too. Maybe. 

 

For now, Skinner had to keep the man alive. He thought about taking him to the hospital, estimated Krycek's survival time there as around three minutes, and dismissed the idea. He could call Scully, get her over to check him out, but the thought of all the things he'd have to explain gave him pause. 

 

Mulder might know something....no. He could not call Mulder in on this, refused to do that to any of them. So who could he call? An idea occurred to him, and he ran into the other room. In minutes he was on the phone, and two hours later, he was opening the door. 

 

The woman who stood there smiled at him, but he saw the fear in her eyes as well, not quite hidden behind the determination. 

 

"Thanks." 

 

"No problem. I said if you ever needed anything and I meant it. Now grab that case for me, it weighs a ton." 

 

Skinner did so, and led her into the room where Alex was. He repeated what he knew, watched as she set up IV's, took blood, put in a catheter, and did an exam. Her movements were quick, efficient and yet careful. They reminded him of her father. 

 

Skinner had served with her father, had seen pictures of his wife and child, had listened to countless stories. Rafe had been an excellent medic, and when he'd died, Skinner had written a letter to them. He got one back, a polite thank you for sharing his memories, and he expected that to be the end of that. 

However, when Skinner had gotten back to the States, he found that Molly, Rafe's daughter, was now an orphan and living with people he wouldn't trust to raise a goldfish. He pulled strings, tabbed contacts and bullied until she was out, living with good people and her funds restored to her trust. The fourteen- year old had thanked him, and sworn that should he ever need anything, he had but to ask. 

 

Skinner had brushed aside her thanks, just glad the kid had a chance now. She'd made the most of it, becoming a top-notch doctor and leading researcher in her field. Every year at Christmas there was a card, a picture, a current address and phone number. At the bottom, without fail, was a written reminder of the promise she'd made so long ago. 

 

Skinner had never expected to call her on it, but as he watched her practically set up a portable lab in his spare bedroom, he was glad he had. 

 

He watched, helping when she asked, following her directions silently. He fetched, lifted and answered all her questions to the best of his ability, not that he knew much. When she asked again about the drug, he took a chance, telling her the truth. 

 

She didn't so much as blink, only muttered that it would make analysis more difficult, and went back to work. 

 

An hour later, she motioned to the door. Once in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, she told him what she knew and what she didn't. 

 

"I don't know if he'll live, but I think he will. He shouldn't have, the initial results of my lab work show that he's got ungodly levels of this substance, whatever it is, in his system. My guess would be that at sometime he was exposed to something else alien in nature. That substance might have given him a certain resistance to this drug. I did find minute traces of something else unidentifiable, the chemical signatures look similar enough that I believe it's acting as an anti-body of sorts. It can't keep him from being affected, but it won't let this drug kill him, either. As for side effects, only time will tell." 

 

She took a drink, and then spoke more gently. 

 

"If this drug was intended for use as a truth serum, then it's acting on his brain. If he wakes up, and he may never wake up, I have no idea what his mental condition will be. He might be completely normal, he might be a vegetable, he might be a lunatic. We won't know until several days after he wakes up what the condition will be, and we'll never know if it's permanent or not. I can tell you that the drug levels are dropping steadily. It should be out of his system by late tomorrow night. He'll need to be kept on an IV, the catheter and turned every couple of hours. I'll show you what to do before I go." 

 

Walter nodded, appreciating her frankness. Rafe had always been that way, and Walter told Molly as much. She smiled, somewhat wistfully, but she was grateful for the remark. 

 

"I'm going back to check on a couple of things and then you can help me pack up. He should be in a hospital, Walter, I won't lie to you. His best chance would be a transfusion and some specialized care. I believe you when you say that's not possible, but if the situation should change, please, get him there as soon as you can. If he begins to run a fever or seizures, I'd take him in, regardless of the risk, if only so you're clean. Other than that, just watch and wait." 

 

She led him through the process of changing the bags, and showed how to turn him. She left replacement fluids and other supplies, reminded him to massage Alex completely at least twice a day, more if he could, and then packed up. 

 

That had been yesterday. Today, Walter had followed her care instructions to the letter, noting that Alex was beginning to regain some color, and that he no longer looked dehydrated. Other than that, he might have been carved out of stone. 

 

No, not stone. Wood. Skinner took some lotion in his hands, and began to massage Alex's face and throat. Yes, a pale wood, hard and unmoving, but with the texture of life visible. 

 

Skinner stripped off Alex's pyjama shirt and began to massage shoulders, arms and chest. As his fingers massaged the chest muscles, Skinner couldn't help but notice that Alex's nipples were lovely. A pale cinnamon color, they contrasted perfectly with the cream skin, and the fact that Alex's chest was nearly hairless didn't hurt either. 

 

Sternly reminding himself that Alex was in no condition to give consent, Skinner resumed his medicinal touch. This was the fourth massage he'd given Alex since Molly left, and each time, he seemed to find another scar, more evidence of the life this man had led. The compact body was a tapestry of punishment, and some of the scars were old and faint enough that they had to have happened when Alex was just a child. 

 

With a sigh, Skinner turned Alex onto his side, massaging the back, mindful of the couple of healing welts. The flesh was warm, that was an improvement, and felt better under his fingertips. He was tempted to bypass Alex's rear, but the nerves and larger vessels there needed the stimulation, too. 

 

Repeating to himself that this was not foreplay, Walter gave the larger muscles a brisk rub, telling himself that he didn't especially like that shade of pink, no, not at all. Especially not on Krycek's ass, no sir, not him. 

 

Chuckling at his own foolishness, he almost jumped out of his skin when the phone rang. 

 

"Skinner." 

 

"It's Molly. Any change?" 

 

"Not really." 

 

“Okay, listen, I forgot to tell you something. There's a great deal of evidence to support the theory that people in comas can hear and perceive the world around them. It's important to stimulate his mind, so talk to him, read to him, sing to him. Play the radio and movies, the news, whatever, when you need a break, but it's not as good as your voice, talking to him." 

 

"What am I supposed to say?" 

 

"You could start by telling him you love him and see what comes to mind after that. I'll call tomorrow to check on you. Goodnight." 

 

She hung up, not that Walter noticed for several seconds. How had she...fuck. She was right. He knew that, but hearing someone else say it had taken the last of his doubt and thrown it out the window. As soon as he'd heard her say it, he'd known he couldn't deny it. 

 

Well, he'd never been one to ignore doctor's orders. Hanging up the phone, he turned Alex back over, put his pyjamas back on, settled him comfortably. 

 

"Alex, I love you." Skinner said it firmly, with the ring of gospel, and then waited. 

 

While there was no magical Sleeping Beauty awakening, the heavens didn't split assunder either, and with a nod of acceptance, Walter took a seat, and began to speak. He told Alex everything, interspersed with another massage. He stopped long enough to get some dinner, leaving the television on for Alex while he ate and did some housework. Then he came back in, saw to Alex's medical needs, and went right back to talking. He left nothing out, and when he left Alex's room for the night, he gave in to the urge to place a kiss on the broad forehead. 

 

It was hours later, in the middle of the night, when Walter heard it. Cocking his head like a Labrador Retriever, he strained to hear it again. There. A rustle, brief, but definitely a rustle, and coming from Alex's room. 

 

Skinner quickly put on his glasses and crossed the hall. He'd left the radio on and a nightlight, making it easier for himself when he got up to change Alex's position and bags. The dim light showed that Alex had shifted from his side to his back. 

 

Turning the light up to low, he saw something else. 

 

Alex was awake, and if he'd ever looked more wary, Skinner hadn't seen it. 

 

"Can you hear me?" 

 

A swallow, a nod, and Skinner turned the light on properly. 

 

"How do you feel?" 

Alex nodded, still not speaking, but indicating that he was as good as could be expected. Concerned, Skinner moved closer, seeing the green eyes widen even more at his approach. 

 

"Do you know who I am?" 

 

A nod. 

 

"Do you remember what happened?" 

 

Another nod. Somewhat exasperated, Skinner asked meaningfully, 

 

"Can you talk?" 

 

At yet another nod, he closed his eyes, sighed heavily, reminded himself of everything Alex had been through, and spoke patiently, 

 

"Alex, please say something." 

 

"I want to leave." 

 

Okay, didn't expect him to say that. Walter thought, a frown marring his features as he thought. 

 

"Why?" 

 

Alex said nothing, but a flush filled his face, and the eyes lowered their lids. 

 

Ah. I think I get it. 

 

Hoping he was right, Skinner spoke again. 

 

"You're in no shape to leave just yet. In the first place, you've been nearly dead for two days. In the second place, I don't know how to get these tubes out of you. The IV I could yank, but I wouldn't advise trying that on the catheter. Thirdly, it's not exactly wise for you to be seen in public just yet, the rumors of your death being greatly exaggerated. Last, but not least, I don't want you to leave." 

 

That brought the eyes flashing back up, staring into Skinner's face with a desperate intensity that almost hurt. The tongue darted across those enticing lips, and the hands clenched around the covers. 

 

"I'll call Molly, tell her she can come disconnect you." 

 

He turned and left, but kept an ear out for sounds from Krycek's room. He made the call, hearing that Krycek was indeed, fulfilling his expectations. 

He entered to find Alex attempting to get out of bed, one foot on the floor, the other still making what appeared to be painful progress across the bed. 

 

"If that foot touches ground, I swear to God, I'll spank you." 

 

Skinner said it from his position in the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms folded across his chest, ankles, crossed. He was deadly serious, and after only a moment's debate, Alex withdrew back under the covers. 

 

Skinner moved to the bedside, arranged and re-tucked Alex in, then surprised the younger man by sitting on the side of the bed. 

 

"Alex, I spoke to you while you were out. Did you hear me?" 

 

"Yes." It was hoarse, but clear, and Skinner poured a drink of water, helped Alex drink it. 

 

"Good. I meant every single word, still do. But you've been through a lot, Alex, and you're not ready to deal with this yet, neither one of us is. So, you're going to be a good little patient and get all better, then you and I are going to have a long talk. After that, well, you're not my prisoner, you'll be free to go. But you'll also be free to stay." 

 

"If I leave before we talk?" 

 

"I'll track you down. I'll find you, and when I do, we'll still have that talk." 

 

Alex was peering up at him, and he nodded to show he understood Skinner's meaning as well as his words. 

 

"Alex, don't worry about that right now. You need to rest and you need to heal. Do that first, the rest will take care of itself." 

 

The younger man looked doubtful, but he seemed to relax a little. Skinner gave him a couple of moments alone, putting on some coffee for Molly. 

 

She arrived not long after, looking tired but excited that Alex had lived. 

 

When she entered the room, Alex visibly tensed. Molly shot Skinner a look, and he held up a hand, motioning her to wait just a moment. Going to Alex's side, he tentatively took one of the clenched hands, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the back of it. 

 

"Alex, what's wrong?" 

 

"She's a doctor. I'm scared of doctors." Alex seemed almost as surprised by the admission as Skinner was, and the older man wondered again if the serum were going to be permanent. An Alex that couldn't lie, Christ, the mind boggled at the possibilities. 

 

Shoving that aside, Skinner brought his free hand up to cup Alex's face. 

 

"I'll be right here, Alex. She won't hurt you, I won't let her." 

 

"You'll stay?" It was asked with a deep need, and Skinner ghosted a kiss over the crown of Alex's head. 

 

"I'll stay." 

 

Alex took a deep breath, swallowed hard and gave Skinner a look that said he was ready. Molly came in, and after a moment's quiet fussing with tubes, said gently, 

 

"I take it you told him?" 

 

"Yes. I told him I loved him, I told him everything." 

 

"Good. You've been alone too long. I always worried about that." 

 

"I haven't been alone that long. It's only been a couple of years since Sharon." 

 

“Yes, and you were alone a good five years before that." 

 

Skinner's eyes shot up to meet her cool blue ones. His anger faded, as he again realized it was the truth. 

 

"Jesus, Molly, you're just like your father." 

 

"Thank you, again. Now hand me that gauze." 

 

She disconnected everything, then asked Alex if she could take another blood sample. Skinner was oddly moved when those green eyes sought his at the request, and he took Alex's hand again, urging him silently to allow it. Alex tightened his grip on Skinner's hand, then actually turned his head to bury it in Skinner's chest, before mumbling that she could take the blood. 

 

Walter used his free hand to stroke up and down Alex's back, to comb through the dark waves of hair, anything he could do to provide comfort. 

 

"There. All done. Thank you, Mr..I'm sorry, I don't know your name beyond Alex, and I never refer to patients by their first name. I'm Dr. Molly Kinsey, I'm sorry to have worked on you without consent, but you were in pretty bad shape, and I owed Walter. Now that you're able to make your own choices, of course, you should find a physician that makes you comfortable. And you will need regular follow-up for at least a year. Do you have a regular physician?" 

"There is a doctor that's seen me since I was a child. But I tried to kill him the last time he touched me, and so I don't think he'll work." Alex's eyes gaped at what he'd said, but Molly only arched an eyebrow and said with some dry humor, 

 

"No, probably not. Well, you can take some time, get some referrences. I'll be happy to keep treating you until you make your own arrangements." 

 

"Do-do you take new patients?" 

 

"Yes." 

 

"Would you be my doctor?" 

 

"I didn't think you liked me." 

 

"I don't, but Walter trusts you, you don't spook easy and you didn't hurt me with any of the needles. You realize it's my body and you asked before you took. You aren't afraid of Walter or the truth, you're blunt and you have a sense of humor. I'll never find anybody else better suited." 

 

"Very logical. You've got yourself a doctor." 

 

"My name is Alex Krycek. I think." Undaunted by his lack of conviction concerning his name, Alex held out his hand. Molly shook it briefly and firmly, then gathered up her case. 

 

"Walter knows where my clinic is or I'll make a housecall. I'd like to see you in three days, Mr. Krycek, barring trouble." 

 

"Three days." 

 

She gave him a smile, kissed Walter on the cheek, and left. 

 

Skinner had watched and listened with some fascination, noticing that while Alex had loosened his grip, he hadn't let go yet. He could also see that the man was exhausted, the strain of being suddenly awake and frightened taking its toll. 

 

"Alex, are you hungry?" 

 

"Not much, but a little." 

 

"I'll bring you a cup of soup. You eat it then try to get some rest." Skinner brushed a light kiss across Alex's knuckles, before releasing the hand and heading to the kitchen. 

 

"I've got Beef or Tomato, Alex, what'll it be?" 

"Beef." Alex wasn't up for full shouting, but he didn't have to raise his voice too much to be heard. Skinner made the soup and half a toasted cheese sandwich, put a glass of tea with it and carried it in on a tray. 

 

Alex wasn't in the bed. Swearing, Skinner set down the tray and headed for the bathroom just as the door opened. Alex was holding onto the wall, moving slowly, still stiff from his time in bed. He caught sight of Skinner standing in the hallway, and his teeth came out to worry his bottom lip. 

 

Skinner shelved his annoyance, only slid his arm around Alex, and helped him to the bed. He saw that Alex was still eyeing him with concern, and spoke quietly. 

 

"What's wrong?" 

 

"I'm waiting for you to spank me." 

 

Skinner realized what had happened, and gave a low chuckle. 

 

"You just went to the bathroom, Alex. You need to move, get your strength back. That's hardly the same thing as getting ready to rip out your tubes and run away. Do you want me to spank you?" 

 

"For punishment? No, I don't think so." There was a bright red blush, and Skinner couldn't resist teasing. 

 

"What about non-punishment spankings?" 

 

"Sure." There was pause, then Skinner caught the faintest hint of mischief in Alex's eyes. 

"I'll spank you anytime you want, Walter, you just have to ask." 

 

Skinner couldn't help it, he laughed outloud. Alex smiled that devastating real smile back at him, and Skinner was struck again by how gorgeous Alex Krycek was when he smiled. He also realized that he couldn't put off kissing Alex any longer, and carefully, slowly leaned in. 

 

He gave Alex plenty of opportunity to say no. Instead, he felt arms wind around his neck, felt the mouth under his part willingly. Skinner would have loved nothing more than to kiss for the next year or so, but he was mindful of Alex's condition. The younger man was breathless, but passion only accounted for part of it. 

 

Skinner stood, gave a last, brief brush of his lips, and stood to retrieve the tray. 

 

"You need to eat, Alex, and you need to rest. We'll have plenty of time to make love when you're well again." 

 

"No, we won't. When I'm well again, you'll kick me out. You'll remember everything I've done, and you'll throw me back into the gutter. The only reason I'm still here now is because the damn drug is still making me tell the truth. In the morning, when you don't have that assurance, you'll remember that you can't trust me. You'll remember who I am." 

 

The voice held sorrow and deep resignation. Skinner realized that Alex must believe it was the truth, or he couldn't have said it. He used two fingers to tilt the handsome face up, looking Alex squarely in the eyes, speaking softly, but with all the conviction he could muster. 

 

"No, Alex. I will never kick you out. You have a home here, with me, for as long as you want it. I love you, Alex, that means something." 

 

"I want to believe you. But I can't. Not yet." Alex looked miserable, and Skinner wrapped his arms around shoulders beginning to shake. 

 

"It's okay. I understand. My fault, I'm pushy. Look, for now, just believe that I want you here tonight. Can you believe that?" 

 

"Yeah, I can do just for tonight." 

 

Skinner kissed him again, and then reached for the soup. 

 

The next day, Alex seemed completely normal again, except for two lingering side-effects. One was residual stiffness in his joints from being immobile for so long. The second was a continued inability to lie.


	2. Part 2

"This sucks." 

 

Having made this pronouncement to the empty apartment, Alex flopped down on the couch, rubbing a hand tiredly over his eyes. He hated this, absolutely hated it, but there was nothing that he could do. Nothing Walter could do, either. 

 

Thinking of Walter brought a hint of a smile to the lush mouth. When he'd been lying there, wondering if he was doomed to spend life as some kind of sentient throw pillow, he'd had one measure of comfort. Walter had him. 

 

True, after some of the things he'd done to the A.D., this might not be a good thing in terms of survival, but it had made him feel better. And then Walter had started to speak, and Alex felt his whole world shifting, realigning. It would have been sublime, had he only been able to move. 

 

He gave a small chuckle, realizing that his not being able to move was probably the only thing that let it all happen. If he'd been his normal self, he'd have bolted like a horse from a fire, as soon as Walter had said the word love. 

 

That thought brought him back to his current contention that things inhaled deeply through the mouth. 

 

It had been almost four days since Alex had awakened, and after the first day, Walter had been almost platonic towards him. The older man had continued to help him walk and gently exercise his still stiff limbs, though that had only been necessary for another day. Walter had fixed food, used an electric razor to help Alex shave and even dug through his closets for clothes that fit reasonably well. Sure, they were mostly sweatsuits, but they were clean and they warm. 

 

Underwear had been solved by Walter finding an unopened pack, a joke gift from Sharon that he'd never gotten rid of. They were too small, the Euro-bikini style which Walter loathed, and came in an assortment of animal prints and jewel tones. Alex had looked rather deliberately at Walter when they were offered, waiting for a smirk. Instead, Walter had been genuinely apologetic, and so Alex had taken them with a sigh. It was better than nothing, he had to admit. Walter's reaction to seeing him in the emerald green pair had made wearing them worthwile. 

 

Not the physical reaction, Alex had known forever that Walter Skinner wanted to bend him over a table, that was nothing new. No, it was seeing the flash of desire, and then watching Walter avert his gaze, granting modesty and dignity that had warmed Alex's heart. It spoke of respect for him as a person, and Alex had been given damn little of that in his life. It was a gift, when offered genuinely, that he never failed to appreciate. 

 

Alex eyed the clock warily, musings interrupted by the quiet chimes. Walter would be home in less than an hour. Alex was not looking forward to it. 

 

Swearing fluidly in Japanese, Alex headed for the kitchen. Dinner was done by the numbers, Alex having found a meal kit in a bottom cupboard of Walter's kitchen. Walter had told him to feel free to nose around, asking only that he stay out of the den for the time being. He hadn't asked Alex to promise, only asked, before heading off to work. 

 

Alex had agreed, and in his kitchen foray, had found the meal kit and a prepackaged dessert. There was a bag of salad in the refrigerator already, and with his diminished appetite, there should be more than enough food for two people. He might not have been able to move quickly and he lacked some fine motor control, but he wasn't really an invalid or debilitated either. Doing nothing without a purpose wore his nerves to a frazzle, and besides, he figured he owed it to Walter to help where he could. 

 

It had taken him almost two hours to vacumn the apartment, something he judged would normally have taken about a fourth of that. Dusting had gone more quickly, his feet and legs not being as involved, and while he hadn't touched Walter's work clothes, he'd thrown in a load of towels to wash. 

 

Now, he seated himself at the bar, his ingredients neatly in front of him, and assembled dinner the way he usually assembled a bomb. It was an approriate thought. Tonight was the night. The Night. Tonight. 

 

Quickly cutting off the Rod Stewart song before it could take root in his brain, Alex reached for the milk. If only it were as pleasant as waiting to be deflowered, he thought darkly, not that there was even a leaf left on his stem waiting to be plucked. 

 

No, he was waiting for Walter to come home so that they could talk. Really talk, about the past and the future, and the infamous, "Where do we go from here?" 

 

Alex shuddered as he spooned dough into the baking dish. Christ, of all times not to be able to lie. Shaking his head at the injustice of it, Alex reached for the can opener. 

 

The worst part was that he had no fucking idea what to do. He'd thought about leaving, just packing up and being gone, but that would only postpone their talk, not to mention likely ensure that Alex did his share of talking standing up. He wasn't sure that Walter would spank him, but he wasn't about to take any chances. Besides, he was in no shape to run to ground, not just yet. 

 

If only he could lie. Not a big lie, he assured himself, just a little shading of the truth. Just enough to be safe. How the hell was he supposed to keep safe if he couldn't even lie about something as basic as how he felt? 

 

He put the pan into the oven and turned back to the bar to start on the dessert. 

 

Hearing the front door open, he glanced at the clock again. It was early for Walter, only by a few minutes, but too early, judging by when the man had told him he was leaving. The sounds weren't right, either. People coming home from work generally didn't care how much noise they made, were usually a bit louder as they kicked off the cares of the day along with their work shoes. 

 

This was near silence, and Alex cast a quick look around the kitchen. He knew his chances weren't good, not in his current condition, but he was damned if he'd lie down and roll over. 

 

He noiselessly opened the knife drawer, standing beside it so that he could drop his right hand into it easily. That was a last resort, his accuracy wouldn't be worth shit, and a two-year old could disarm him right now, but it might buy him a minute or so. 

 

Reaching into the spice cabinet he picked up the crushed cayenne pepper, uncapping it and holding it in his left hand. If they can't see, they can't shoot, or at least, not as well. He eased the rolling pin off the hook, putting it at the far side of the knife drawer. He couldn't think of anything else, and the sounds of stealth were drawing closer, so he braced himself against the counter and got ready to attack. 

 

And damn near fainted with relief when he saw Mulder's head stick through the door. Even in his current condition, he could probably still take Mulder. Nonetheless, he maintained his defensive pose, ready just in case. 

 

"What do you want, Mulder?" 

 

“The truth." 

 

"Buy the latest issue from the Gunmen." 

 

Mulder actually smiled at that, and Alex relaxed a little. He'd spent a lot of time studying the man in front of him. His life had once depended on knowing him as completely as possible, and experience told him that Mulder meant no harm. 

 

"Relax, Krycek. I just want to talk to you." 

 

"Yeah? Get in line, G-boy." 

 

Before Mulder could respond, Alex heard the blessed sound of Walter coming in, dropping his briefcase and keys on the table. 

 

"In the kitchen, Skinner. And we're not alone." Alex yelled it calmly, but he knew Walter would hear the warning in his tone. 

 

"Jesus, Krycek that alien drug did nothing for your paranoia." 

 

Mulder said this as Walter kicked open the door, gun drawn. When he saw it was only Mulder, he relaxed, starting to put it away at Alex's nod. There was no way Skinner would need a gun to take down Fox Mulder, not even if the other man had his out, in hand and ready to fire. 

 

“What do you know about it?" Skinner asked with suspicion, moving to the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water. Alex noticed that it put Skinner between Mulder and himself, and knew it wasn't accidental. 

 

"He's the one that dumped me in your apartment." Alex gave a grin of pure delight as Mulder absorbed those words and the meaning behind them. 

 

Some fifteen minutes later, Alex knew that he was in some sort of psychogenic state, he had to be. Nothing else would explain the fact that Mulder was setting the table, Walter was taking dinner out of the oven, and he, Alex Fucking Krycek, was finishing up the dessert. He put it into the freezer to chill, and then took a seat at the table. Walter had halted conversation after Alex's little shocker, insisting that they all take time and eat. 

 

"Thanks for making dinner, Alex." Walter said it softly, little more than a whisper, and his eyes were warm. Alex felt himself melt a little, even as he shrugged it off. 

 

"I was bored." It was true, but not the whole truth, and Alex cringed as he heard his mouth continue on against his will. "Besides, I wanted to do something to help you." 

 

Skinner smiled at him, a quick look of reassurance before taking his own seat. 

 

Mulder had been pouring himself some tea, and now he found his place, as well. 

 

"If anyone attempts to say grace, it will be a prayer before dying." 

 

Alex simply could not take another surreal moment, and he was pleased that his truth button didn't push on metaphors. That, or he really was desperate enough to attempt to kill, which was just as likely. Sipping water that he wished were vodka, Alex let Walter serve him, not wanting a lapful of hot food in front of Mulder. He noticed that Walter served Mulder as well, and reminded himself again that Walter had once been a soldier, and knew all about showing weakness in front of the enemy. 

 

" Okay, I didn't have lunch and breakfast was minimal, so I'd like to enjoy my dinner. You can talk, but keep it light and inoffensive, got it?" 

 

"Yes, sir." Mulder responded from habit, and while Alex said nothing, he got the message. No taunting your ex-partner until the coffee is served, fine. 

 

Alex was mostly quiet, listening as Walter and Mulder spoke of scores and stats. They were such...men. He sighed, taking another bite. He didn't have any problems with that, could play the game as much as the next guy, but it was just that, a game for him. Maybe if he'd ever been to a ball game it might mean something, but the scattered moments watching odd bits on television didn't hold much promise. 

He noticed that they didn't talk about work, not surprisingly, and that the one time Scully's name was mentioned, Skinner looked decidedly uncomfortable. Hmmm, now what would cause that? He mentally reviewed the man's file, but could find no answer. Marking it for examination later, Alex turned his attention back to the conversation. 

 

"...supposed to be his best work yet." Alex rewound, found the author's name had indeed registered, and estimated that it was time he spoke again. 

 

"Yeah, it's great. I wouldn't say it's his best, though, that sounds like the New York Times pumping their own list. Personally, I think book three was his high point." 

 

He noticed that Mulder and Walter were both looking at him like he'd just sprouted a second head. He expected it from Mulder. It hurt from Walter, not that Alex let it show. 

 

"Yes, Krycek can read. I enjoy reading, actually, it's the closest thing to a hobby I ever had. It didn't matter where I was, most places have a library, and you can get magazines at any convienence store. It's quiet, cheap and portable." He said this calmly, and stood to start the coffee. 

 

Walter's hand rested lightly on his arm, pausing him, but not attempting to hold him. 

 

"I wasn't surprised by that, Alex, I know you're smart and I know you're remarkably cultured considering what I know of your background. If I seemed shocked, it was because I feel the same way about book three, and never found anyone else that agreed with me. That's all, Alex, I swear." 

 

Alex hesitated for only a moment, before letting the pain go. He'd believe. He wanted to believe, and this was small, it wouldn't hurt to give in to the fantasy for this one small thing. 

 

"Thanks." It was all he said, but he let the rest show in his eyes, turning his head so that Mulder couldn't see. This was only for Walter, private, as was the silent response. It lasted only a few seconds, but it steadied him for the evening to come. Though God only knew what would happen next. Alex pulled out the dessert, carrying it with caution to the table. Walter served again, and by the time the pie was cut, the coffee was ready. Mulder was closest, and he poured for everyone, not noticing that he knew to put the sugar next to Krycek and the creamer next to Walter. Alex noticed, but refrained from commenting. 

 

"Okay, dinner is officially over. Mulder, what do you want?" 

 

"Answers. Truth." 

 

“How refreshing." Alex was thankful that sarcasm was allowed by the damn drug, needing to see the flicker of irritation on Mulder's face. 

 

"You know, Krycek, I didn't have to bring you here." 

It hit a big nerve, made worse by the fact that Mulder had said it almost gently, and Alex didn't dare try to respond. He dropped his eyes, looking at the pie in front of him, cutting a piece he had no intention of eating. 

 

"Well, it sure as hell didn't take long for the gloves to come off, did it? Mulder, let's start with you, tell us what you know, and we'll go from there." 

 

"Why do I have to start, sir?" 

 

"Because I'm curious as to how and why you decided to break into my apartment." 

 

Mulder's face showed he hadn't quite considered that angle fully. He spared a half a moment to chew his bottom lip worriedly, then visibly conceded. 

 

"I'd gotten a tip about this guy a few weeks ago. A trace proved successful, and after making his routine, a camera was installed without detection. I was given access to the live feed, and saw and heard the entire incident. Following Krycek's removal from the scene, I was able to ascertain the likely point of expulsion and was able to take custody of the body." 

 

It was pure Mulder in report mode, and Alex noticed that Skinner had also chosen to adopt his work demeanor, sitting ramrod straight and toying with his fork the way he always used to toy with a pencil. Krycek felt a pang of lust as he remembered standing in front of that big desk, Skinner looking at him intently, judging his work and worth. He'd had more than a few fantasies about that damn desk, had been on it, over it and under it in just about every way he could imagine. There was not one thing wrong with Alex Krycek's imagination. 

 

He brought himself back with a mental shake. Play later, business now. 

 

"I see. Let me translate that out of Mulder speak, tell me if I get it right. You got an anonymous phone call, used FBI resources and time to check him out, had the Ubergeeks put an illegal wire tap on his phone. Then you stalked him and when he was out, engaged in a little recreational B&E, had Frohike install a micro-camera, and kept Langely company in the van watching the feed and swapping porn. When you saw Krycek and heard what was happening, you went ape-shit, followed too fast and too close, and nearly got caught and/or your ass shot off before you got yourself and Krycek out of there." 

 

The silence was delicious, and Alex held it in as long as he could. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer, and the laughter burst from him like a spray of bullets, making the other men startle. Fox looked seriously pissed, the flush on his face saying clearly how accurate Walter's translation was. 

 

"Oh, Christ, Walter, don't do that to me! I'm still recovering, you know." 

 

"Be quiet, Alex." It wasn't harsh, but Skinner was serious, and Alex swiftly got himself back under control, deciding that maybe a little pie wouldn't hurt after all. 

 

"I'll take your silence for a yes. We're not at work, Mulder, this is all unofficial. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop the bullshit and leveled with me." 

 

"What do you want to know?" 

 

"Why? Why did you bring him here?" 

 

Mulder's face showed that he was clearly thinking everything over before answering, having learned his lesson of a moment ago. At last, he nodded to himself, and Alex recognized the face that meant Mulder was about to lay it all out on the table, personal consequences be damned. 

 

It was one of the things Alex admired the most about Mulder. True, if Alex ever really tried or wanted to, he could kick Mulder's ass with ease. But inside Mulder was core of titanium, and it wasn't about victory or survival or anything like that. No, when Mulder got tough it was always about something completely selfless, someone else's need, never his own. For that alone, Alex had helped and spared him countless times. 

 

Mulder was a genuine, goddamn living, breathing hero. The fact that he had no idea what he was or why he did the things he did, only added shine to his medal. 

 

"I needed someplace quick and someplace safe. I needed to be able to get to him. If the effects are permanent, this is the best shot at real information I've ever had, and I couldn't let that go. Those are all valid reasons for choosing you and this place, and they're all purely secondary. You want to know why here? Because I watched the tape and I watched you. You love each other. It's almost criminal in it's insanity, and it's probably going to cost both of you your lives, but it's true. " 

 

Mulder made a soft, sad sound of amusement, picking at his pie crust as he continued, 

 

"You know, for a long time, I thought it was me. I have occasional bouts of vanity, and during one of them, I started to wonder why Krycek was always just a little left of the party line. It was like he couldn't decide which side he was on, confused the hell out of me. I thought he was just ambivalent, then I thought he was a mercenary political slut, but that didn't make sense either. Finally, I worked a profile. It pointed to him being in love, and I was lonely and vain enough to think it might be me. It wasn't. It was you, sir.The final clue was when he brought you back. You're the reason I'm still alive, you're the reason the X-files still exists, the reason Scully isn't dead yet. All because Alex Krycek fell in love with his one-time supervisor." 

 

There was no sound for a while, and Mulder got up, poured everyone some more coffee. 

 

"It was easier to figure out you loved him back. That did make sense, and I wasn't busy pouting that you weren't in love with me." It was a very revealing comment, and Alex knew that Mulder offered it to put them all on equal footing again. 

 

" I brought him to you because this is where he's supposed to be. I spend half my waking hours hating his guts, but if he can be happy, by God, he's earned it after all he's been through on my behalf." 

 

Mulder paused, took a sip, then looked deeply into Skinner's wide brown eyes. 

 

"And you, sir. What has my cause cost you? Everything, including your life. If Krycek is a chance for you to build a new one, then it's a chance you have to take. If you throw me out now and never speak to me again, I won't regret this, because I owed you, both of you." 

 

Mulder closed his eyes for a moment, unable to resist any longer the desperate need to now state his own case. 

 

"Please. I need answers. I don't have much time left, I don't know how I know that, but I do. I'll give you anything you want, do anything you say, I don't care. But I need this." 

 

Alex saw the tremble in the long fingers, the suspicous brightness to the hazel eyes. He was still trying to breathe past the lump in his throat at all Mulder had said, but he turned to Skinner. 

 

"Walter, I know we were supposed to talk tonight, about us. I'd like to postpone, if it's alright with you. It seems Agent Mulder and I are about to have a very long, painful conversation." 

 

"Of course. I'll get my coat." 

 

"No!" It was said loudly and in unison. 

 

"You have to stay, Walter. I won't be able to do this if you aren't here." It was all Alex could say, but it was more than enough. 

 

"Sir, I'd like you stay, also. Krycek and I may understand each other, may even ultimately care what happens to the other, but we also share a volatile temper, and have been known to let emotion sway us. I think we'd both feel safer if you were here. And armed." The last was said as a feeble joke, but it broke the tension the way it was intended. 

 

"I'll stay."


End file.
